A One Handed Pirate With a Drinking Problem
by miley-avril
Summary: Emma finally acknowledges her feelings for Hook after the Wicked Witch of the West almost kills him. He helps her deal with the things she needs to deal with in order to be able to move on and have the relationship she wants to be able to have with him. Based on a few tiny spoilers for 3B. Rated T because Emma's language would make Hook blush if the show wasn't on at 8 PM.


_One handed pirate with a drinking problem_. That's what Pan had called him. The day Hook had first told her that, she didn't believe it for a solid few minutes. How could he? Okay, so yeah, he had one hand… and maybe more than an affinity for rum, but still… he was so much more than that.

Emma looked down at the dark-haired man who was currently laying in the ICU of Storybrooke General. They had finally defeated the Wicked Witch after days of relentless, unending battle, but at what cost? Hook was in a coma, able to breathe on his own, but a coma nonetheless. Suddenly feeling prickling behind her eyes –something that was becoming far too familiar for her liking– Emma bit her lip.

She was sick of crying. Sick of feeling vulnerable. Sick of everyone she ever cared about getting hurt –because of _her_. If Hook had never come and rescued her and Henry from New York, then he wouldn't have taken that goddamned arrow for her and subsequently fallen and hit his head.

_I have yet to see you fail_, a little voice whispered to her. The memories were still coming back, little moments popping up here and there causing emotions to come rushing back, sometimes at the most inopportune times.

Like now. Because _goddamn it she wasn't going to cry_. Not when everyone else needed her to be strong because she was the Savior and God knew there was a lot of shit to be done and a lot of people to be saved because _clearly_, some people weren't even capable of sorting their own shit out and constantly needed her to do it for them. She wanted Killian to be awake. She wanted him to comfort her and tell her everything was going to be okay and just let her _be_, and give her a moment to break down and simply be _Emma_, not the Savior everyone wanted –needed– her to be.

"Swan…" A raspy voice with and Irish lilt said so quietly she thought she was imagining it.

"Hook?" The blonde's voice quivered with just that single word as she suddenly realized she was holding his hand. She wondered at what point during her mental pity party did she latch onto it?

"I'm aware that I took an arrow to the shoulder and my head made a new acquaintance of your Main Street, but why the bloody Hell does my one hand feel like it's being broken?"

Emma looked down again. Maybe she was holding on just a little too tightly…

She let go.

"Don't you do that to me again, Jones!" She whispered harshly because if she tried to speak any louder, her voice would break and he didn't need to know how close she was do losing it. He nearly _died_, he didn't need to be worried about her because if there's one thing she's sure of, one thing that's remained constant in a universe that's always changing on her, it's that Killian Jones will always put her needs above his.

"Nice to see you, too, Love." With blood flow now regained in his hand, Killian reached up and cupped her cheek. "I'm so sorry." He whispered with a sincerity and honesty that still surprised her, even after everything. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"I thought I lost you. I thought I was going to be alone again." She tried to suck in air, but it felt like she was in a vacuum.

"Never. You will never be alone again." Despite its hoarseness, Killian's voice held more than conviction: it was a promise laced through every word. He knew that though Emma had her parents and Henry, Henry was still only a third hers and Snow and David were to become parents all over again in just a few short months, and sometimes, late at night, it all got to her and the fears she thought were gone for good came creeping back.

With those six words, Emma let the tears she had been holding back for days take over. Despite the pain, Killian pulled her from the plastic chair she had been sitting in and onto his bed. He wrapped his arms around her as her body was wracked with sobs.

He held on and didn't let go. She fought him at first, of course. He wouldn't have expected anything less from his fiery Swan. But eventually, she relaxed into him.

After a few minutes, she calmed down. Tears still fell, staining the pristine white pillow (it didn't matter, no one could see in the eerie glow of the various machines' light). She sat up and moved back to the chair, needing space. He didn't take offense. Still, he reached his hand out and grasped hers, giving her the physical contact she didn't even know she needed. He half expected her to apologize for her well past due outburst, but instead, she simply said,

"I'm sick of having to be the Savior. I'm sick of having to pretend to be so strong and tough… I want all this crazy shit to stop so I can just _breathe._ I haven't been able to have a real, honest conversation with my parents about anything that's happened, about my past, because every time I'm about to, something bad happens and I can't because if I do then I'll be emotional and vulnerable and I haven't been able to afford to be that. And now they're about to have another kid, and I can't do that to them. I can't hurt them like that when they have this second chance to be happy." In the dimly lit room, Killian could see the brokenness in her eyes and it killed him.

Hey may have been wrong about her always being ready for a fight.

"Have I told you a lie?" He asked quietly. Her head snapped up and their eyes locked, blue searching green.

"What?"

"Answer the question, Love."

"N-no…" What was he doing?"

"You're a tough lass. You're bloody brilliant. You're amazing. You taught me how to love again. You've bested me more than everyone who's ever bested me combined. You love fiercely once you let yourself. You have never failed, at least not in the time I've known you. You're stubborn, infuriatingly so at times. I could go on, but I think you get my point." She looked down to try to hide the small smile forming at her lips behind a curtain of blonde locks, but he tilted her chin up with his hook.

"You remember all of that?" She asked in a small voice.

"Yes."

Silence.

"Just because you believe something, it doesn't make it true."

"As I said, occasionally your stubbornness is infuriating." He said gently. He wanted her to see herself the way he did so badly. "If only you could see yourself through my eyes, Emma."

"You don't usually call me that." She remarked.

"No, but what's a captain without his Swan?" At that, she laughed.

"I wish I heard that beautiful laugh of yours more often."

"Yeah, well…" She rolled her eyes.

"You're an open book to me, Emma. You always have been. You may not see yourself in your true light, but…" he mulled over his next words carefully, "I saw past your Savior role from the moment I first laid eyes on you. I saw through your walls, and you know what I saw?"

"What?" She whispered.

"The strength of Hercules, the passion of Venus, the anger of Mars, and the adventurous spirit of Neptune," he added with a wink, "my personal favorite." He began to massage the top of her hand with his thumb, drawing slow, gentle circles. "You may think that your strength ends with being the Savior, but it really begins with you, _Emma_. The Savior is just a role, an extension of who you are. I meant every single word I've ever said to you… well, except for that one time I locked you in the Crocodile's cell, but I knew you'd get out. You always find a way to overcome anything."

"I didn't know you had such a way with words." She smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry about nearly breaking it, I was wo– I didn't mean to."

"Admit it, Swan, you care about me." He could see she was done being sentimental, and she visibly relaxed once they got back to their usual banter. After a few moments, she said, staring intently at a tile on the floor,

"You once told me you'd win my heart." She looked up, meeting his gaze. "You didn't lie about that, either." She'd never forget the way his face lit up and he beamed at her. "I know Pan called you a 'one handed pirate with a drinking problem', but you're so much more than that. Well, to me, anyway, I'm still not sure about David." It was Killian's turn to laugh. Eventually he'd tell her about the fact that David was starting to like it (though the man would vehemently deny it), but not tonight. Tonight, he just wanted to steal a few moments with Emma in the aftermath of all the chaos. They both knew they weren't ready to say the 'L' word yet, and that it was going to be a long road to emotionally and physically rebuild their lives, but both knew they'd get there –hopefully without any more trips to Neverland or Wicked Witches getting in the way.


End file.
